XVII. The Star.

Our Rooming House—NIGHT

I am still in the apartment, now timidly climbing into bed with Andrea.

“You are like a wave of flesh and compassion,” I tell her, but I then equivocate, Refusing the Return to normalcy, “This is false, of course. But you’re the only person, I’ve really known—”

As I make this confession, the electric desk lamp across the room bursts into flames. I remove myself from her rather matter-of-factly.

“But now, my desk is on fire and I must put it out.”